


Uncle John

by Szarka



Category: The Lone Ranger - All Media Types
Genre: Aromantic John Reid, Aromantic Tonto, Family Bonding, First/Second Sleep, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Queerplatonic Relationships, Superheroes Randomly Adopt Children - Lone Ranger Version, The Reid Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-11-23 13:50:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20893127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Szarka/pseuds/Szarka
Summary: After the death of his grandmother, Dan Reid is taken in by his uncle who lives alone with his friend. It takes them all some time to adjust to the new situation.Or: Superheroes randomly adopting teenagers and than trying to figure out what to do with them, Lone Ranger version.It should be possible to understand this with only a minimum of knowledge about the Lone Ranger mythos.





	Uncle John

**Author's Note:**

> 1) The Lone Ranger is a story from the 30s and onwards about a masked guy and his best friend fighting outlaws. Think of it as a mix between Western and superhero. (Fun fact: His great-nephew actually IS a superhero.) Since the beginning of this year, I’ve had a whole lot of fun discovering that world, and I really wanted to see a story about John, Dan and Tonto becoming a family. So here you go.
> 
> 2) The characters. For those who don’t know them, John Reid is the Lone Ranger, Tonto his best friend / sidekick and Dan his nephew / teenage sidekick / audience wishfurfillment surrogative. I decided that John and Tonto are both aro and in a queerplatonic relationship, because I could.
> 
> 3) I based this story on a mixture of the radio show from the 30s, the tv show from the 50s and the comics from the 50s and 60s. There are footnotes. I would also like to point out that the 2014 movie NEVER HAPPENED. I am serious. If you are only just starting out and see that thing on Netflix, you might think that it is a good idea to give it a try. DON’T. IT’S A TRAP. Try YouTube and the Internet Archive for the older things.
> 
> 4) Yeah. The racism. This was originally written in the 30s, so… How to deal with period-typical racism in older stories is just a thing you have to learn, and I do have to say that both the Lone Ranger and the Green Hornet are lots better than the average of their time. They actually seemed to try. Didn’t quite succeed, but are so far the only radio plays I can listen to without the racism (or sexism) ruining everything. For what it is worth, I personally solved this problem by assuming that the narrator is unreliable. They either really don’t know what was really going on with the Lone Ranger and Tonto, or just took some artistic freedom because they want to appeal to a heteronormative cis white audience. You need to kind of look past that to see the truth. The 2014 movie, which, again, DOES NOT EXIST, however, has no excuse.
> 
> 5) My big thanks goes to Bruce Byfield for his help in looking this story over and providing some very valuable feedback about the cultural sensitivity part.
> 
> 6) That said, if somebody manages to spot any mistakes, especially as far as racism is concerned, PLEASE call me out on them. The way I see it, the Lone Ranger mythos is great and has the potential to be very fun and inclusive, but we all have to be incredibly careful because of the racism embedded in the source material, some of which still exists today in the Real World. So if I messed up somewhere, I really want, and need, to know about it. Thanks in advance! 
> 
> 7) There are footnotes. That aren't linked. I TRIED to figure out how to do that, but somehow really didn't manage. So now you have to scroll. Sorry about that. But at least I have left myself some room to improve in my next fic.
> 
> +1) EDITED ON 13/7/2020 TO REMOVE A CULTURALLY INSENSITIVE BIT. Also, sorry it took me this long.

Not much remained of the wagon train by the time the two men arrived. The horses had been taken, the wagons looted and burned. The people killed.

“No survivors.”, said Tonto matter-of-factually. From what he had told about himself over the course of the past week, this was not the first time he saw something like this. He'd been around, traveled over the Planes on his own. Met people, seen things.

It was not the first time the Lone Ranger saw something like it, either. Apache attacks happened. The Wild West in those days was not always a safe and easy place to be. And not only for the settlers, who could be just as violent towards the Apache as they were towards them. The Texas Ranger were called in for help happened at almost every single one of the attacks. The Ranger still didn't think that he'd ever get used to the sight.

“There! Look!”, pointed he at a single wagon, still intact, standing a little away from the others.

They approached carefully, guns ready in their hand. But it was empty, aside from some trunks the attackers for some reason had not carried away. Most likely because they hadn't noticed the wagon, it having rolled a little down the slope towards the river. One of the trunks was standing open, and this was where the Lone Ranger looked first. Nothing special. Clothes. Women's clothes, to be exact. Papers, books, looking as if they’d been pulled out and thrown aside in a haste. The double bottom of the trunk was open, the inside empty.

There was a name on the trunk. The Lone Ranger gave a startled cry upon seeing it, and Tonto was at his side at once.

“What is it?”

“This name. Linda Reid. That's my brother's wife.”

“She was on the wagon train?”

“They…. They wanted to move up North, to the Canadian border.”

They both knew what this meant. There was a moment of awkward silence, than Tonto simply put a hand on the Ranger's shoulder.

“I'm sorry.”

The Lone Ranger shook his head helplessly.

“No. This can't be. There must be some other explanation…”

“I'm sorry,” repeated Tonto.

“No. I promised to look after them. Dan. He asked me… I would look after his family if something happened to him. I _ promised _.” He looked up at Tonto, wide-eyed. “Dan! Linda doesn't… She doesn't even know… And Danny…”

“Who?”

“Their son, Danny. He's so little, only seven months old. Danny! Where is Danny?”

“There are no babies here.”

“But Danny…”

“_ There are no babies here. _ Look yourself.”

They went another round among the destroyed wagons, looking for the bodies of Linda Reid and her son, Dan. They didn't find them. The longer they looked, the more frantic John got, until he was almost at the edge of panicking. This was the most upset Tonto had ever seen him, and even years later, he would remember it well. John Reid was usually not someone to easily lose his head.

“The Apache sometimes take prisoners,” pondered Tonto, secretly hoping to calm him down. “They might be with them.”

“I go after them, try to find out if they're there. You go to the nearest town and fetch the Sheriff.”

That was probably the last thing Tonto wanted to do right now.

John was already halfway towards his horse by the time he finished this sentence. When he realized that his companion wasn't following him, he stopped and turned around in surprise.

“What is it?”

“We shouldn't call the Sheriff.”

John started at his friend, not understanding, the metal nameplate from the truck still clenched in his fist.

“What do you mean, _ of course _ we should get the Sheriff! There is a whole band of murderous Apache, and if we hurry, we can still catch them!”

“If we do, they'll be killed.”

John didn't know what had gotten into Tonto, but he didn't feel too much patience to find it out.

“_ Yes _, they'll be killed! They only just murdered a whole group of innocent, defenseless people! They deserve to be brought to justice.”

Tonto was just as bewildered about John’s attitude as he was about his. He had spent the entire last week getting to know his new friend, that friend he’d decided almost immediately he wanted to have in his life. And they got along so well. They understood each other so perfectly. Somehow their similarities had blinded him about just how different the worlds they came from really were.

“Killing them won't be justice.”

“_ It is the law! _”

And he really believed that. John Reid lived in a fairy tale world, it was one of his many appeals. He really, honestly believed in justice. He believed that the world was fair.

Tonto wanted to scream.

“White man's law has never been kind to us,” said he instead.

For a moment, John was at a loss for words. Then he realized that he was staring at Tonto with his mouth wide open, and closed it.

“How… How can you not understand…”

“No. It is you who does not understand.”

Tonto crossed the distance between them with two big steps, the expression on his face one that John hadn't seen before. _ Desperate. _

“Enlighten me.”

“Your law only protects your people, not mine.”

“That is not tr…”

“_ You listen to me! _” snapped the Comanche. John broke off mid-word, crossed his arms, and glared at him. Tonto ignored it. “I've traveled. I've seen things. There is no justice on this land except for the White man. My people know this. You get the Sheriff, the men die. The men have families, wives, children. Who will look after them? Not your law.”

“Maybe they should have thought about this before _ they murdered all these people! _”

Tonto slowly shook his head.

“You're a good man. But don't see nuance. You think you know it all. But you don't. It's dangerous. Tell me, you want to make this land a better place for all?”

“Of course I do. You know it.”

“Than you must work with all. White men are not our friends, we know that. You, you can be different. You call the Sheriff on those men, and my people will never trust you.”

John wasn't sure that he believed him, but over the one week they'd been traveling together, he'd learned to trust him. Tonto was experienced, even more so than John, and if he said something, he was usually right. He obviously knew more about the different indigenous tribes wandering the desert, since he himself had been part of one. And they wanted the same thing. This, John knew without doubt. They had spent so much time talking about justice, and how the law needed someone just outside of it to help keep it.

But…

“They have my family.” He was surprised how broken his voice sounded.

“Then we go get them,” said Tonto, and started to walk towards the horses. John looked one last time at the small metal name plate in his hand, then pocketed it and followed him.

This decision saved the lives of the entire group of Apache men. But, it turned out, after some yelling and wrestling and trying to convince them that they were on the same side, that they hadn't taken any prisoners.

Despite all of his efforts, John never found neither Linda, nor her little son, Dan. Eventually, he gave them up as dead. 1 2

* * *

**THIRTEEN YEARS LATER**

“Silver horse,” said John, hugging his horse tightly around the neck. “Lots of grass here, eh? You like, that, Silver, don't you? Silver…” He buried his face in the strong, muscular neck, held on for a while, then loosened his grip a little, and kissed his mane. Silver, who by then was more than used to these random outbursts of affection, tolerated him with the patience of a saint.

Hugging Silver was one of John's favorite pastimes. He was big, and strong, and warm, and smelled like horse. He enjoyed being cuddled by his friend, for it was more of a friendship than anything else, and John could hug him as tightly as he wanted without having to worry about hurting him.

“You're happy now, aren't you, Silver?” asked John, caressing his soft nose and scratching behind his ears. “So much grass… You'll have to be careful not to get too fat before we get back to the Planes. Silver horse…”

“Kemo Sabe.” 3 Tonto appeared a few steps behind him, silent, as ever. “You all right?”

“No,” admitted John, and turned around to face his friend. “Not at all.”

Tonto stepped next to him, and silently laid his hand on his arm. This was as close as he would get. Despite having been living together for over thirteen years now, the two of them weren't very physically affectionate. Not where someone might see them. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to, they both knew that it was John's time to talk.

And there was so much to say. In the past two hours, his entire world had been turned upside-down. First, there had been the bandits, but that was normal given the life they lead. What was not normal was that he'd learned that the random boy they'd accidentally met that very morning was, in fact, his brother’s long lost son. Than said boy's guardian had died of old age and a weak heart, and with her dying breath made John promise to take care of her adopted grandson. He hadn't hesitated for a moment, and didn't regret his decision. But the fact remained that he'd only just assumed full responsibility over a thirteen year old boy. And because he shared everything with Tonto, he'd dragged his friend right along with him. 4

“I'm sorry,” said John finally. “I'm so sorry, Tonto, I should have asked you. But it all went so fast and there was no time, and I…”

“You found your nephew.”

“Yes, and I can't just leave him now, he is all alone and I made a promise to Dan, and… I should have asked you.”

“And you would have listened if I said no?”

“I… I don't know. I… _ Are _ you saying no?”

“You are his uncle. How could I tell you not to care for him?”

“But it is your life, too. He is going to come with us, and we will have to take care of him, and…” John felt his voice drown in tears. He tried to hold them back. Crying wouldn't do him any good.

Tonto's eyes were warm with sympathy. They also had that very specific shine to them they always did when Tonto knew more than John and watched him trying to catch up on the obvious.

“In the language of the Numunu, we have use the same word for the father and the father's brothers.” 5

John blinked back some tears.

“I… I know?”

He _ did _ know. He was fluent in Comanche, and used it interchangeably with English while talking to Tonto. Learning the Native American language had been one of the first things he did in his new identity as the Lone Ranger. Since there were, in fact, _ a lot _ of Native American languages, and he couldn't possibly learn all of them, he'd concentrated his efforts on the biggest and most important ones, Comanche being his natural first choice. And, even though he'd kept his strong accent and still made the same grammar errors he had ten years ago, he'd achieved a pretty good level pretty quickly. He _ knew _ what the correct terms for the different family members were. 6

Tonto looked at him with his Look, the one he saved for the moments when John was very obviously being an ignorant White man. Those moments had gotten fewer as the years went by, but still happened occasionally.

“You never thought about how we see family differently than you do?”

It took John a moment to really comprehend what his friend was saying.

“Oh,” said he, dumbfounded.

“Children are a treasure. I'd never tell you not to care for your nephew,” said Tonto, and John had to pull away to keep himself from bursting out in tears. He turned back to Silver, and patted his shoulder.

“Thank you,” said he to his horse.

Tonto didn't answer to that, but he didn't need to. Instead, he too patted Silver, who turned his head to greet his other two-legged friend. Tonto rubbed his nose for a while, right until his own horse decided that the white stallion had gotten enough attention, and started to pull with his lips on his long hair. Tonto jumped.

“Scout!” exclaimed he, pushing his nose away. The scene made John smile. It was going to be alright, thought he for the first time since Grandma Frisby's reveal. They were in this together. And as long as Tonto was by his side, there was no problem that they could not master.

They left three days after Grandma Frisby's funeral. Dan, following his uncle’s guidance, had said goodbye to everyone he knew, and sold the house to Pete, who was just getting married and really could use a place of his own. He'd paid a good price, which Dan put in the bank, and assured him that he would always be welcome there. Dan tried not to be too sad about it. Grandma Frisby had liked Pete. She would be happy to know that he would be looking after her house.

Dan still didn't know for sure how he felt about all this. The idea of traveling did sound exciting, but he also felt lost without his grandmother (who actually hadn't even been his grandmother??), and he didn't quite know what to make of the two men who were supposed to take care of him now.

The Lone Ranger and Tonto hadn't stayed in the house, but slept outside with their horses. This only helped to remind Dan that they were not normal people, but seemed to function following a different set of rules than everybody else, and didn't even try to hide this. The Ranger hadn't taken off his mask once since Grandma Frisby's death, and also hadn't told Dan anything about himself except what he had revealed than. Tonto didn't speak at all. Dan wasn't sure that during all that time he was there, he'd even said a word to anyone except the Ranger. He didn't smile, either. His behavior wasn't bad in any objective way, but just off enough to make Dan feel really uneasy around him.

He also didn't know how much he could trust the Ranger. Because yeah, that man was his uncle. At least it had sure looked that way. But that didn't mean that he was a good guy. Katie's uncle was a drunk, who'd once hit her so hard that it bled. And the mask didn't exactly spark confidence, either.

The only real, personal interaction he'd had with the Ranger was after the funeral, when everybody had left, and he'd held Dan a weird speech about how he'd inherited the freedom his grandmother had fought for, and how it was now his duty to help to preserve it and protect this great country. Apart from that, he'd only given him practical instructions, like what to pack and when they would leave. 7

Dan followed the two men silently as they slowly left behind his home and everything he knew, heading South, to the Planes the Lone Ranger and Tonto belonged to. They were all three lost in their thoughts, and none of them talked for a long time. It was the Ranger who finally broke the silence.

“You are not used to sleeping under the stars, are you, Dan?” 8

“No,” said Dan. “Grandma Frisby wouldn't let me stay outside in the dark. There were wild animals who in the night would come up to our house.”

“You were right, Kemo Sabe,” said the Ranger to Tonto. “We will need a tent.”

“I can sleep outside,” hurried Dan to assure him. “I'm not afraid.”

“Not that,” said Tonto. He had a deep voice, that went perfectly with his otherwise dark expression. “ At night, it gets cold.”

“_ Really _ cold,” stressed the Ranger. “Don't worry, Dan, you'll get used to it soon enough, but until you do, it is for the best that we sleep in a tent, where it is warmer.”

“Where do we get a tent?” asked Dan curiously.

“We have a tipi. Jim is looking after it for us.”

“Who is Jim?”

“A friend,” hummed Tonto.

“You'll see,” added the Ranger. “As soon as we get to Texas. Until then, we will have to rent a room.”

They continued their way in silence. Maybe Dan was just imagining things, but the Ranger and Tonto seemed to be able to communicate without words. So when the masked man brought his horse next to Dan's, and started to quiz him about his knowledge in different fields, it gave off the impression as if he'd be doing so as a result of repeated nagging by his friend.

Dan felt that he knew a lot. He could follow tracks. He'd hunted before, and could prepare a meal if he had to. Grandma Frisby had paid much attention to his education, so that he knew his history, and maths, and could use a bit of Latin. He knew the biggest and most important writers and musicians.

The Lone Ranger was really pleased with all this, and explained to Dan that education was the most important thing a man could invest his time in, because knowledge allows us to be better people and therefore live better lives. He then asked Dan about what he knew of the First Nations and their cultures. His face fell when it turned out that it was close to nothing. And even the little that he _ did _ know was inexact and useless, apparently.

“So much conflict could be avoided if only people would take the time and learn the basic minimum about each other,” said the Ranger sadly. “Right now, nobody seems to care. So it is our job to make sure that everybody gets along and keeps the peace, and that means that we have to work together with everyone. You _ need _ to know who is who.”

What followed was a really long list of names and places, that got Dan's head spinning.

“Do I really have to know all of this?” burst he out in the end.

The Lone Ranger broke off mid-word, and blinked at him in confusion.

“But I told you ? It is important….”

“Let the boy rest,” intervened Tonto. “Too much information.”

“But it is _ important _,” protested the Ranger. But he didn't push the topic further.

They stayed in a small room on top of a cafe 9. Dan had the impression that renting multiple rooms never even occurred to the two men, so the three of them shared. Not that it was a bad thing, they were all hungry and tired after a whole day's riding, and only cared about eating the generous dinner they'd ordered and than going to sleep.

There was only one bed. It was big enough for exactly one person, so sharing was never even an option.

“It's yours,” said the Ranger to Dan. “Tonto and I sleep on the floor.”

“I don't need it,” protested the boy. Receiving all this special treatment begun to really rub him the wrong way, and he was too tired to bother hiding it. The Ranger and Tonto kept treating him like a child in need of all kinds of special attention. Which Dan was _ not _.

The Ranger rolled out his blanket. He and Tonto had both brought their saddles to the room to use them as pillows.

“I don't care what you do, as long as you don't force _ me _ to sleep in the bed.”

“Beds are uncomfortable”, said Tonto. “We sleep in the desert. On the floor. We are used to that. Beds for us are too soft. But you, you are used to them. Enjoy having one.”

He rolled out his blanket some distance from the Lone Ranger's.

They didn't undress. The Ranger didn't even take off his mask.

“Your mask,” pointed out Tonto.

“No,” said the Lone Ranger.

“We are safe here,” argued Tonto.

“No,” repeated the Lone Ranger.

“We did lock the door,” remarked Dan.

The Lone Ranger didn't even bother to answer and rolled himself up in his blanket.

“No use,” sighed Tonto, and followed his friend's example.

They lay there in silence for a while. Thoughts chased each other in Dan's head, keeping him awake, but were completely useless otherwise. Finally, he decided to ask one of the many questions that had been on his mind ever since he'd found out who his real family was.

“Uncle?”

The word felt alien in his mouth.

“Yes, Dan?” came the answer from out of the dark.

“What is your name?”

“I don't use my name.”

“Kemo Sabe,” said Tonto severely but not unkindly. “Tell him.”

The Lone Ranger sighed audibly.

“My name is John. I haven't called myself that since I first started wearing this mask. There are only three living people who know it, Jim, Tonto, and now you.”

There wasn't any more talking before they all succumbed to the exhaustion of a long day on horseback, and fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

By the time Dan woke up from his first sleep, the Lone Ranger and Tonto were already awake. 10 They were lying on their stomach next to each other, whispering something in a language that Dan didn't understand. Their makeshift beds, which had originally kept a respectful distance, had mysteriously moved closer, so that they were now side by side, close enough for their shoulders to touch.

Dan considered briefly to let them know that he was awake, but then decided against it. He didn't feel like talking, or moving, or doing anything, really, and the Ranger and Tonto had once again slipped into being that mysterious, inseparable and unapproachable unity, where Dan had no, and never would have, a place in. So he just kept lying still and watched the two men from a distance. It gave him a perfect opportunity to think through what he even knew about them.

It wasn't much. The masked man, his uncle, was generally only known under the name 'The Lone Ranger'. His real name was John, as he had just told him. John Reid. He was the brother of Dan's father, and had, just like him, been a Texas Ranger. He'd quit after his team, lead by Dan Reid senior, had gotten into an ambush where everybody else was murdered. He'd survived by nothing but sheer luck, long enough to be found by Tonto, who, for some reason, had not only nursed him until his wounds were healed, but stayed with him even after John'd recovered. Tonto was an Indian. Comanche, as his uncle had made it overly clear to Dan early enough during his infodump, back when he'd still been paying attention. He looked dark and grumpy, and only talked in short sentences.

And that was, to Dan's surprise, already pretty much all that he knew about them. They traveled around from place to place, chasing outlaws. Everything about the Ranger and his faithful companion was clouded in mystery. People thought that they were heroes, or maybe dangerous outlaws themselves. Their real identities, what they lived from, and where, why they were doing what they were doing, and what methods they exactly used, that, nobody knew. They appeared out of nowhere whenever their help was needed, and then disappeared without any trace. Didn't ask for money, didn't even stay for the night. The only thing anywhere close to a reliable fact that Dan had managed to gather about them was that the Ranger's horse, Silver, was a very good horse. A _ very _ good horse. Just how good he really was, that nobody knew, because the stories told about him simply _ had _ to be made-up, or at least seriously exaggerated. 11

So the Lone Ranger and Tonto were apparently good guys, but they still had something about them, something fundamentally _ other _ and _ strange _. Their apparent dislike for beds was one of these things, but it went further, the Ranger being so obviously uncomfortable in buildings that he preferred to sleep outside in the cold with the horses. Tonto was somewhat better at hiding it, but he too clearly would have chosen to be outside of the four walls of the cafe, had he been given the freedom to decide. The way they were lying there, close to one another and rolled up in their blankets, they looked like two misplaced creatures who only wanted to get back to their home, the wilderness of the Texas Planes.

The Ranger was still wearing his mask. But why? Why did he wear it in the first place, if he really was a good man who had nothing to hide? And why was it so important that he refused to take it off, even when he was asleep?

All in all, Dan still wasn't convinced that he really could trust the two strangers who had taken him in without ever asking what _ he _ wanted. For now, he played along, but would have to be careful and make sure that there was a way out for him, if he ever needed one.

The Ranger was leaning so close to Tonto that their heads seemed to be touching in the dark. He was arguing something in that strange language they were using, obviously to maintain their privacy. Tonto hummed, and shook his head. He laid his hand on the Lone Ranger’s, that had been resting between them.

“Go back to sleep, Kemo Sabe,” said he in English.

They didn't bother to move their makeshift beds away from one another again. Nor to let go of each others hand, for that matter.

Jim was always happy to see them, but when he heard about who Dan really was, he got so excited that Tonto almost worried about him beginning to jump up and down. As they rode to the old cabin built at the entrance of the silver mine, where he kept their supplies, the old timer couldn't really shut up about Dan's father and their time together. 12

“Well, your daddy was a Texas Ranger. A captain to that. He was good, too, tough, people really respected him.” The Lone Ranger looked awkward at this subject, but Dan drank up every word. “Your mommy was a real beauty, she was. A brave woman. She fell in love with Dan, and told the other girls that she would marry him no matter what. Followed through, too. Not that your dad objected much, if you get what I mean. They made a beautiful couple, they did. And then they had you, and it was just like what one would picture a perfect little family is like.”

“And my uncle?” asked Dan.

“Oh, he was there, too. I've known him for quite a few years, your Uncle John.”

He grinned at him. 'Uncle John' did his best to fake a smile back.

It was very funny, actually. John was very good at keeping his embarrassing moments private, so that Tonto never had anybody to share them with.

Not to mention that he also had to keep them secret because he had a hard-earned reputation of being a reasonable and serious person, and John Reid's embarrassing moments… Were embarrassing enough to completely ruin both of their reputations.

“Always been a weird guy, he has. A lovely weird guy, but still. You see, us Texas Rangers, we don't get to be soft about our work. This is a wild country. If you want to uphold the law, you've got to be the tougher guy. Your daddy got this, but I don't think that John ever did. Wanted us to be friendly with the Injuns, he did. Used to get into fights with everyone for calling them savages, no matter how high up the ranks they were.”

Tonto looked at his friend. The Lone Ranger did his best to avoid meeting his eye.

“It got him in a lot of trouble, it did. You can imagine,” continued Jim. “We laughed at him every time. But he didn't give it up, oh no. I remember the time he tried to convince people to make it mandatory for us all to learn their languages. Some boys were slightly drunk and almost beat him up over it. I suppose he tried to make you learn that stuff, too?”

“I've been memorizing names of tribes for days.”

Jim laughed.

“That sounds like our John all right. But I can't even make fun of him no more, because it turns out that that bastard was right. People _ really _ are more likely to listen to you if you talk to them in their own language.”

“Not everybody speaks English,” said Tonto. He himself had learned it, and it had served him well, but many did not. The White man of course _ obviously _ couldn't be bothered with their languages. Therefore, some of his and the Lone Ranger's most important work consisted in serving as translators.

“So it really _ is _ important for me to know all these names?” sighed Dan, defeated.

Jim shrugged.

“Depends on what you want to do, kid. But if you want to uphold the peace, it is either this or you get the better guns and use them, too. If there is a third way, than I have to hear about it yet.”

“I guess I'll do my best, than,” decided Dan.

They arrived at the cabin, where they found the small tipi along with the other gear they'd stacked over the years for when needed. John and Tonto stayed outside to check if the tanned leather was still undamaged, while Jim and Dan disappeared inside. Jim had proposed to show Dan how to wash silver, and the boy was really excited about the idea.

“He is doing all right, isn't he?” asked John anxiously as soon as the two were out of earshot.

Tonto hummed.

“He is very cheerful,” answered he truthfully.

“But that is a good thing, right?”

“Not always. I've seen people suffer. The ones that weep, you help. The ones that laugh, you think are doing fine and you don't do anything. Inside, they hurt.”

He wasn't even certain that those people_ themselves _ knew about the wounds they were carrying. They had it all buried underneath smiles and trivial cheerfulness. Most of the time. Sometimes, they broke through the layers and fell into the darkness below, and when that happened, neither they nor their loved ones were prepared to deal with it.

“Do you think that Dan…”

“Dan lost everything. He is riding with strangers. We should watch out, Kemo Sabe.”

The Lone Ranger nodded, but he kept his eyes on the leather. It was in perfect condition, and the two men started to pack it away. They weren't talking, each of them busy with his own thoughts.

Tonto thought that he knew what Dan was going through. Not quite, of course not, but probably more than the Ranger did. John Reid had lost his brother, and then decided of his own free will to leave behind the world the two of them had inhabited. He didn't _ have _ to cut all the bridges, he _ wanted _ to. While Tonto… 13;

He had been two years older than Dan when his entire tribe got slaughtered. From another tribe, who'd been in some sort of conflict with his. Or at least that was how he'd explained it than. As the years went by, he was less and less sure. He'd tried, but hadn't succeeded in finding out who'd done it, and he knew almost everyone living on the Planes. Maybe they'd all died, or moved away. White men had been known to carry out acts of violence disguised as Native Americans. Maybe it had been them. Tonto's memory about the event was too fragmented and contradictory to be trusted.

The fight had been short, but brutal. The men of the Numunu were great warriors, but no-one had been expecting to need to defend themselves in their own camp shortly after dinnertime, and by the time they could gather themselves, it was already too late. The attackers took no prisoners, and shot everyone on sight. Tonto was one of the first to get hit. He was only superficially wounded, and managed to escape the worst by playing possum and hiding as soon as the attackers looked another way.

He was the only survivor.

He still was convinced that he would have died, had it not been for a boy of his own age. A White boy, from the nearby town. He was only riding around when he saw the smoke and followed it to investigate. Despite them having no common language, the two of them had understood each other and the situation well enough. The boy helped Tonto temporally clean and bandage his wound, and then gave him his own horse, so that he could go and find some proper help. (He would have taken him back to his town, but Tonto resisted with all his energy.) In turn, Tonto gave him one of his very few remaining possessions: A silver ring he'd happened to be wearing when the attack started.

The horse made it possible for him to reach another tribe, one that helped him rest, looked after his wound, and took him in when it was healed and evident that the boy had nowhere else to go. They were good people, kind people, who did their best, but Tonto never succeeded in seeing them as _ his _ tribe. He would, for ever and ever, be an outsider to them, and they a closed group with no place for him. 14

The older he became, the more Tonto isolated himself from the people around him. He was always alone. He spent more and more time in the desert, making bigger and bigger rounds. Eventually, his escapades became too much, and the adult members of the tribe all agreed in a council that maybe it would be better to let him go for good. He would always be welcome with them, but they couldn't spend their time worrying about where he was and whether he would get back in time for them all to break camp. 

This rolled a stone from Tonto's heart he didn't even know had been pressing him down.

He spent the following years alone with his horse as his only company, riding in whatever direction it pleased him, talking to any and everyone he encountered on the way, not bothering with who was friendly with or fighting whom. To everybody's surprise, most people ended up liking the vagabond young man wandering alone on the Planes, not overly friendly but definitely not hostile, always good for some news or gossip and willing to help out with whatever tasks help was needed.

Somehow, he left behind key elements of civilization along the way. He stopped following most of the traditions his grandfather had thought him, didn't return for celebrations and even stopped painting his body, choosing to wear a simple vest instead, even in summer. His grandfather would have had some very unpleasant things to say, had he seen him. 15

But he couldn't, and Tonto just didn't care. Everybody thought that he was insane. So what? He strongly suspected it himself. 16

And then he met again the boy who had given him his horse.

He was passing through a valley while trying to hunt something, and visited a cave that was famous for having a spring in it, the only water nearby. To his surprise, what he found was a wounded man, unconscious and barely alive, wearing Tonto's silver ring around his neck.

Of all the things Tonto had made sure to learn over the past couple of years, medicine was one of the most important. He'd become good at it, good enough to be able to take on most situations he encountered, and people sometimes asked him for help if they needed a healer. He always carried supplies for basic first aid with him, so he was able to clean the stranger's wounds and guard him until he recovered.

He was, indeed, the boy of Tonto's age who had given him his horse without hesitation, saving his life. He'd grown up to be a Texas Ranger, but his party had ridden into an ambush, and everyone except for him got killed.

A lone Ranger, had said Tonto.

A good name, had said the man, and asked him to make something so that he could hide his face while going after the monsters who'd murdered his colleagues.

Tonto did, and, because it sounded fun and he had nothing better to do, stayed with him to help bring to justice those outlaws he had no real interest in. By the time they finished, both men knew without any doubt that they would stay together for the rest of their lives. 17

And they did. Their friendship wasn't free of conflict, but they learned to navigate most of each others particularities, and the two of them made a good team. John followed through with his idea to bring justice by operating _ only just _ outside of the law, and somehow he convinced all the local authorities to let him. More, they _ trusted _ him. Tonto's friendly relationship with the tribes came in really handy. They _ did _ all think that he was insane, but insane in a lovable and good to know him kind of way, and so he managed to convince them to trust the masked White man.

And everything about their life was nice and good, but sometimes, they failed to save somebody, and a child lost one of his guardians, and every time, Tonto was reminded of a young boy on horseback alone in the desert, praying to meet somebody before his wounds could get infected or his water ran out.

He could see that boy in Dan. Him, and another one, the one who'd been only just adopted by an entire group of such nice and generous people, and felt that he had to show his gratitude to keep them from sending him away again. So the boy put up a polite smile, while inside, he only wanted to scream. And the people around him bought it, and never asked him about his nightmares.

He really wanted to help Dan. He wanted to talk to him, but that would have meant that he would need to open up about some of his own feelings to a stranger, and that was something that Tonto could not do. He had been unable to be honest when the members of his new tribe asked him how he was feeling and offered their help, would he ever need anyone to talk to, and he'd remained unable to ever since. Tonto was, in fact, a very kind and empathetic person, but he'd locked all those parts of himself away behind a cool armor of polished silver, and he found time and time again that he was unable to open up and let someone see his vulnerable side.

There was only one exception to this, and that was John Reid.

But the Lone Ranger himself was not a good candidate to help Dan. He was an amazing man, but as far as feelings were concerned… Especially if they were the feelings of somebody else, and he had to be careful with them. John simply lacked the nuance and sensitivity when it came to those things, so it was safer not to let him anywhere near people needing emotional support. Tonto had learned this the hard way.

No, if he wanted Dan to get any help, than he had to be the one to do it.

They finished packing away the tipi, and went on to try to figure out how to best distribute all their luggage over the three horses. It took some time, but in the end, they found a solution and could join the others. 18

“He and his brother have always been very close, that's for sure. Closer than John'd been to any other person. He and Linda got along well, too. There have been some very cruel jokes about John Reid being closer to his brother's wife than to any other woman.”

The Ranger stopped in the door, just outside of Jim's sight. Tonto joined him, close enough for their bodies to be almost pressed together, like they usually did when they were hiding from somebody or listening at a window. The old timer and Dan were sitting with their backs to the door, talking about what appeared to be John.

“He didn't have a girl than?” asked Dan.

Jim laughed.

“John? Never! He was too caught up with his horse and his philosophy and law books, and wandering around in the desert all the time to bother with actual _ people _. Between you and me, I think that women scared him. There was this girl, Maggie, who really fancied him. Head over heels she'd fallen for John, our Maggie. Beautiful girl, could have picked any man she liked, but no, she wanted John and no-one else.”

Tonto was absolutely certain that he'd never heard of any Maggie before. Of Linda, often, but she really was the only woman the Ranger ever talked about.

“Poor girl spent months trying to get him alone, but he somehow kept avoiding her. Than there was this dance, you see, and he couldn't get out of it, so he had to be there. She asked him in front of all the people, and he could not say no to that. They danced for a while, and she thought that her chance had come. But than John just excused himself, to get drinks, he said. Run straight to his horse and never looked back once. Rode into the desert, and didn't come out for so long that we started to worry that he'd been eaten by coyotes.”

Tonto could feel the tension in his friend's body. When he spoke, however, his voice was light and pleasant enough to being mistaken for careless.

“Always count on an old friend to tell the most embarrassing stories about you first.”

Jim and Dan jumped.

“How long have you two freaks been lurking out there?!” exclaimed Jim. “Damn it, I'm too old for these surprises.”

“We are not freaks,” said Tonto.

Nobody pointed out to him that it wasn't meant to be taken seriously. The knew that he knew.

“It is not our fault that you didn't care to look up all this time,” added the Ranger. “We weren't exactly hiding, you would have seen us at once.”

“All right, all right,” muttered Jim.

“The horses are ready,” said John. “Come, Dan, it is time for us to leave.”

“Can't we stay just a little longer?” pleaded Dan. “Just for this one night?”

“Night is still plenty far away,” said Tonto. “Many hours left when there's light. We should not waste it.”

“They're right,” agreed Jim. “I'll still be there the next time you pass by, we can continue talking then. Have you got everything packed you came for, John? Food, water, silver bullets?”

“You never told me about Maggie,” said Tonto. He and the Lone Ranger were riding side by side, as they always did, with Dan trailing behind. They didn't seem to be very aware of his presence when they rode like this, and probably never even wasted a single thought about whether or not he could hear them.

“There is not much to tell, Kemo Sabe,” sighed the Ranger. “She liked me, I didn't know how to react, so I panicked and fled. Dan and the other Rangers thought that running away from a girl is hilarious, and I haven't heard the end of it since.”

“I'm sorry,” offered Tonto.

“Don't be, it is my fault. I wasn't… I hurt her. And I am still sorry about that, but I just didn't know what to do. She deserved better. Maggie was a good and hard working young woman. She deserved a good man who could love her the way she needed to be loved. I was not that man.” 19

“Not your fault,” said Tonto. “Feelings can't be forced.”

“Thank you, Kemo Sabe.”

“I fought to keep everyone away. Not a good strategy either.”

“Probably not, no.”

They were silent for a very long time. It wasn't quite clear what they were thinking about, and Dan didn't try to guess. Not that it was important, either way. He himself had more than enough on his mind.

He knew now more about his family than he'd ever thought he would, and mentally went over every single word again, trying to carve them into his memory. It was such a lovely image, his parents a wonderful couple everybody liked and respected, his father a real hero and his mother a beautiful and loving wife. His uncle, who everyone thought was a little weird, but still very much loved and close enough so that they could call on him any time they needed. Captain Reid, according to Jim, had been an incredible rider, and tracker, and good with a gun, feared by the outlaws and respected by all. He'd caught many, and Dan now knew about some of them.

He wished Grandma Frisby was there, so he could tell her everything. He knew for certain that she'd loved to hear it all.

Instead, the only people he could talk to were the Lone Ranger and Tonto, who didn't care. They hadn't really tried to ask Dan about personal matters so far, and besides, both of them certainly already knew all about Captain Reid's heroic deeds.

“Do you think about it sometimes?” asked the Ranger out of the blue. “People getting married, having children, and…. Not us.”

Tonto shrugged.

“It is better. I can't live in a civilized society. No-one deserves to have to live with me.” 20

“I know, me neither, but… I sometimes think about what my parents would say. I always knew that my mother wanted grandchildren.”

“Mine too, Kemo Sabe. She'd prefer that I am happy. Your mother already has a grandson. That must be enough for her.”

“Oh, she would have _ hated _not being alive by the time he was born. My father, too. But he would have been much more upset about me vagabonding around instead of leading a respectable life. He was always very strict and proper.”

“My father was a great hunter. My grandfather too. He taught me well. He'd be proud of that. But not happy that I abandoned our traditions.”

“Oh, my parents would kill me if they knew that I am not religious anymore.” 21;

So far, Dan had only been listening from afar, but now, he couldn't resist speaking up.

“What do you mean, you are not religious, uncle?”

The Lone Ranger turned around, looking slightly startled. Maybe he'd really forgotten that Dan was there. He and Tonto slowed down a little, allowing him to catch up before his uncle answered the question.

“I never cared too much about God. But after Dan died, I stopped believing altogether.”

“How could you have done that?”

Grandma Frisby had, like any good grandmother, raised her adopted grandson to be a good Protestant. Dan had learned all about the Bible, attended service every Sunday, and generally could not imagine a life without God in it.

His uncle shrugged.

“I wasn't very convinced of Him to begin with, and then I suddenly didn't need to keep up appearances for the sake of people around me, so I just stopped.”

Dan was horrified, but did his best to hide it, and quickly changed the subject.

“Why don't you want children?”

“Doesn't feel right,” said Tonto simply.

“There are different kinds of people, Dan,” explained the Lone Ranger. “And they need to lead different lives. For some men, a wife and kids are the one thing that makes them happiest. For others, it is science, or the arts. Others live for their friends, or their business. Telling someone that getting married and becoming a parent is their only way to happiness not only does them injustice, but it also harms both them and their would-be partners and children. Tonto and I both knew very early on that marriage was not a good option for us.”

“That's sad,” said Dan after pondering over it for a while.

“You shouldn't say that, Dan. We are both happy. We have each other, and we have Silver and Scout, and now you and Duke, too.”

“But no family.”

“You _ are _my family.”

“Oh… right.”

“You will get used to it,” hummed Tonto.

They made camp in a halfway protected place near some bigger rocks that night. There was a stream nearby, and grass for the horses. They had taken along more than enough food for dinner, and in addition to that, they found some edible wild berries.

Dan went to sleep before the Lone Ranger and Tonto did, so he was awake before them. The air inside of the tipi was warm, but also heavy, and the two men way too close, and Dan only wanted to get away. Remembering what he knew about the desert nights, he took his blanket and went outside.

It really was cold, but the air was fresh, and Dan breathed it in with gratitude. The horses were out of his sight, but he knew that they were nearby, and the moon and the stars gave more than enough light for him to see. Dan sat down on a rock at the foot of a bigger, taller rock, rolled himself into his blanket, leaned back and just watched the sky. It was beautiful, in the middle of the desert, far away from any other human beings. It was big, it was empty, and lonely, and terrifying.

It would have all been so great, had he only known that this adventure would end with him returning home to Grandma Frisby working in her vegetable garden, ready to listen to him as he'd tell her his stories.

Meeting Jim had helped a little with his fears concerning the Lone Ranger and Tonto. From what the old timer had told him, they were not bad people. Jim had something about him, an openness, that made Dan trust him, and if _ he _ trusted the two men….

It was also true that so far, they really hadn't done anything that could have harmed him.

And yet Dan didn't feel any calmer. New doubts had replaced the old ones. So the Lone Ranger and Tonto weren't dangerous outlaws. But that meant that Dan wouldn't need to run away, which meant that he would stay with them, which meant…. Which meant that he would stay with them. They were the only family he had.

And _ that _ was a truly terrifying thought. Because what if they didn't want him? After all, he knew almost nothing that could be useful to them in the desert. And both men had been more than clear enough during their ride about not wanting children. The Ranger and Tonto formed a unit, one where other people didn't have a place in. Why would they want to have Dan intrude on them and mess up everything? That would explain why they were both so distant.

“There you are, Dan!”

The Lone Ranger and Tonto had appeared at his side, seemingly out of nowhere. His uncle sounded irritated, but it was difficult to read his emotions in the dark and through his mask.

“What were you thinking? You can't just disappear like that! What if something had happened to you?”

“Like what?” asked Dan, now also irritated. “There is no-one here. I just wanted to be alone for a bit, is that a problem?”

“Yes! You can't just walk out on us while we’re sleeping!”

“Why not? I didn't go far!”

“Because…”

“Kemo Sabe,” interrupted him Tonto.

“_ What? _”

Dan didn't understand what Tonto said next, because it was in his own language. So was the Ranger's heated answer, and the short argument that followed. It ended with the Ranger turning on his heel and marching back to the tent. Tonto looked after him for five seconds, then sat down next to Dan.

They were silent for a while. Dan had pulled his knees up to his chest and was hugging them, holding on to the blanket at the same time. Tonto wasn't looking at him. Instead, he had his eyes fixed on something far away, just like Dan did.

“He's not angry,” said he finally. “We worried when we didn't see you.”

“I just wanted to be alone,” said Dan. His voice sounded thin in his own ears.

“Next time, you tell us.”

Dan nodded, defeated.

“I'm sorry,” said he in that stupid thin voice again.

Tonto shook his head.

“No need. You are old enough. Can sit alone, if you want to. But must understand that if you just disappear, we worry.”

“ …. Oh. Ok.”

Tonto smiled a very short and very small smile at the distance he was staring into.

“Not just you who wants to be alone. The Lone Ranger and I, too. Sometimes, we need space, we leave for days or weeks. But need to know the other one is in no danger.”

That made sense. Dan had the impulse to apologize once more, but suppressed it and remained silent. Tonto was silent, too.

“I had a little job in town,” said Dan finally. “Sometimes I had to stay longer and could sleep at Martin's place. 22 I loved it. But Grandma Frisby didn't like it very much, she said that the house was too empty with only one person in it.”

“My grandfather let me sleep in his tipi sometimes,” said Tonto.

It was the most he'd ever told Dan about himself.

“What was he like?” asked Dan, curious to learn more.

“A great hunter.” Tonto smiled, a real smile this time. “Taught me everything he knew. Used to tell us the stories of our people. The children sat around him and listened. He knew all the stars. Sometimes, on nights like this, he took me to the desert and told me their names.”

That really sounded good.

“Do you miss him?”

“Him. My mother and my father and my father's brothers and their wives. Often.”

“I will meet Grandma Frisby in Heaven. But you don't believe in…”

Dan didn't finish his thought. If Tonto didn't believe in God, than he had no chance of going to Heaven and meet his family there.

The Comanche gave him a strong, pointed Look.

“Believe that, if you want. But do not ever tell me what to believe. You hear. Not me, not the Lone Ranger, not my people. They hear it enough from White men.”

Dan nodded.

Tonto stood up.

“We should get back to the Lone Ranger now.”

Dan followed him back to the tent, but stopped before going in.

“Tonto…. Thank you.”

The man turned back to him, and smiled. It was a small, short smile, but meant for Dan, not for some distant memory like before.

“You ever need to talk, you come find me. Me, not him. You hear?”

Tonto didn't mean to get into trouble. He actually almost never did, even if John kept accusing him of doing it on purpose. He just had a talent for finding trouble wherever he was going. And then didn't run from it. _ Possibly _ even enjoyed picking fights with settlers from time to time. He never went looking for them. But if the settlers had to provoke him, well, he didn't say no. One against five were good odds. It meant that he didn't need to hold back. 23

John… didn't exactly like this habit, but they were both way past the point of arguing about it. They had, at some point, at the beginning, when Tonto had been beaten up often enough for John to realize that it wasn't an isolated incident. He'd tried to convince his friend to _ stop picking fights he couldn't possibly win. _ Tonto, on his side, didn't care much for being told what to do, and there had been some bad words between the two of them. He'd ended up winning the argument, eventually, and since then, John either ignored his bruises or tended to them without any commentary.

Trouble also found him when he rode off alone, to visit some people or to follow some rumors, or simply to be away from the Lone Ranger for a while. 24 His friend usually stayed behind, working on his contacts or other mostly administrative things that needed to be done, and only heard about Tonto's adventures when he told him about them. Which he always did. Why wouldn't he, they were nothing to be ashamed of, if not the contrary, and even if they were, John was his friend. They had no, or close to no, secrets from one another. That said, he might had… a certain tendency to forget about or downplay some minor details. Mostly concerning the exact severity of danger he'd found himself in.

The rest of the time, they got into dangerous situations together, and neither Tonto nor John quite knew how they managed to constantly do that. They were actively looking for outlaws and people who needed their help, sure, but a lot of the time they just kept accidentally running into people that ended up pulling them along into potentially life-threatening situations.

So no, Tonto had not been planning to get into trouble when he'd left his friend and his friend's nephew behind to ride into the nearby town and ask the local Sheriff for news. But he also wasn't surprised when trouble ended up finding him after all.

According to the Sheriff, not much had been going on just yet. There was a new mine planned and about to be opened, but these things take time, so the miners were still working on the entry shaft. It resembled more a cave than an actual mine at that point. But everyone had really high hopes for when they'd get it finally running.

Tonto was just getting some water for Scout before their long ride back (he was planning on hunting something for dinner before rejoining John and Dan), when he heard voices from around the corner. They were coming from a small group of men gathered together and whispering low enough so that only somebody with Tonto's exceptionally sharp ears could have understood.

“….long will the mining operations be on hold?”

“A week, maybe bit longer. You'll have to hurry.”

“Don't worry, we'll be out of here in days. Just need to make sure the buyers actually pay, and we can get the goods rolling.”

“And what about my part?”

“You'll get your money soon enough.”

Tonto left his horse and snuck a little closer, so that he could see who was talking. Three men. One of them probably from town, since he was reasonably clean and wearing good, intact clothes. The two others looked more like vagabonds, their faces and clothes covered in a layer of dirt, as if they'd been on the road recently. Only one of them was talking, the other just stood there looking threatening.

They looked suspiciously familiar. Tonto didn't have the unfailingly sharp memory for faces that John did, but he recognized people from the top of the wanted list if he saw them, and those two definitely were that. Smugglers. Two brothers, called Dennis. He and John had tried to go after their ring a year or two ago, with little success. They had caught a handful of their henchmen and intercepted some illegal goods, but not the leaders themselves. John had been really upset because said smuggled goods were a new and very addictive, very unhealthy mix of weeds, and some of Tonto's friends had been very upset because some of those plants had been stolen from the land of their tribe. They had sworn to put an end to it, and since Tonto hadn't heard about the subject since, he'd just assumed that they had been successful. Maybe he'd been wrong. Or maybe the smugglers had found something else to deal with. Either way, he _ really _ would have liked to punch them in the face for their past crimes.

On any other day, he might have. It would have been easy, just make a little noise, just enough to alert the three men. They would be coming after him. One against three, if he was fast enough, he could knock them all down before the rest of the town arrived and turned against him. He'd done it before.

He'd also had fights before where he had _ not _ succeeded in getting away before reinforcements arrived. Three men, that was ridiculously easy. An entire town, less so. The last time he'd gotten in a situation like that, he would have been beaten to death, had Scout not got away and alerted John. His friend had rescued him in the nick of time, and then proceeded to yell at him for an amazingly long period of time. 25

They almost never got into any fights, so whenever it happened, it hurt them both all the more. Tonto actually could hold a grudge, but John hardly ever managed more than a few heated words. That time, he'd stayed angry for three days, before Tonto finally brought up the subject again. John had gradually raised his voice while talking, until he was shouting.

Tonto had been reckless. And stupid. And risked his good reputation, for nothing, because even if he had won, what would he have achieved? He'd wasted his time, and picking fights was childish, any way… In the end, he'd just sat down, as if he'd used up all his anger and his energy together. _ You could have died, _ said he in a very low voice, not looking at Tonto. _ You almost got yourself killed, and I couldn't have saved you. Did you ever think about that, Kemo Sabe? What would I do without you? _

They had, of course, both proceeded to ignore that he'd ever said these words, but after that, Tonto was more careful.

He couldn't leave his friend. Not now, not ever. And if that meant that he needed to stay away from unnecessary fights, than he stayed away.

Tonto retreated just as soundlessly from the little group as he'd approached them. Either way, he knew that it wouldn't be the last he'd see of them.

Tonto had left immediately after breakfast for a town not too far away to talk to the local Sheriff, leaving Dan and his uncle in the camp, something Dan was not too happy about. He would have loved to accompany him, in part because it sounded exciting, and in part because he still felt a little unsure about being alone with the Lone Ranger. It was more of a general feeling of unease than anything concrete. The Ranger had calmed down by the time Dan and Tonto had returned to the tipi the previous night, and didn't seem to be angry with his nephew. He hadn't brought up the incident since, and behaved just as friendly towards him as he'd done before.

They spent some time studying the plants with the horses grazing just a little bit away. The Ranger, having lived thirteen years in the desert, knew all about which were edible and which ones should be avoided, and did his best to teach Dan. They gathered enough for dinner, and then went to join Duke and Silver.

The Lone Ranger was an amazing rider, and Silver was an amazing horse who knew him perfectly and reacted to his smallest and most subtle commands. Dan wasn't bad himself, as could be expected from any teenage boy who grew up somewhere where you need a horse to get around, and he too knew some tricks he'd learned together with the other children, when they’d been showing off to one another. Duke was strong, and fast, and obeyed his master well. But they both lacked the training and the practical experience the Lone Ranger and Silver had. Duke almost broke away from Dan when the Ranger fired some tentative shots in the air to see how the horse would react.

“We will have to work on this,” said he.

They spent the afternoon on horseback. The Ranger and Tonto had this trick, where when somebody shot at them from close enough to risk actually hitting, they would fall off at the first shot, and remain motionless until the attacker came close enough for them to knock the gun out of their hand. It was a very useful trick, that had saved both their lives multiple times, so the Ranger thought that Dan should learn it, too. Dan of course thought that it was a great idea. Or, at least he did at first. He might have started to have his doubts by the time he fell off his horse for the tenth time, and still hit himself painfully.

“And there are ways to do this without it hurting?” asked he sullenly.

“If you do it correctly…,” pondered the Ranger. “How do I best explain it to you?”

“Can't we just practice the fistfight part?” asked Dan. He was proud of his fistfighting skills. Back home, he'd won most of the fights he'd gotten into.

“If you'd like,” said the Ranger, and disarmed his gun. “Lay down on your back. Now I come up to you, like this…” He stepped next to Dan, and aimed the gun straight at him. “You have a maximum of three seconds before I shoot. How do you get the gun out of my hand?”

It only took Dan a dozen attempts before he got it right. After that, it was him against the Lone Ranger. He didn't stand a chance, but he fought bravely, and if he said so himself. At some time amongst the movements, the Ranger seemed to lose the serious composure he'd had ever since Dan first saw him, and burst into a wide grin.

“Well done, Dan!” exclaimed he when Dan landed a successful kick against his shin.

He launched forward, grabbing his nephew around the waist and throwing both of them to the ground. Dan rolled himself free, and tried to punch him, but his uncle managed to grab his wrist. Dan kicked at him, but it wasn't enough to free himself. They rolled around for a bit, both wrestling for control, but finally, Dan ended up pinned down on his back.

“You win,” admitted he amid laughs.

The Ranger let him go. He too was grinning widely.

“Not bad for the first time,” said he. “Your father would be proud.”

“Really?” asked Dan.

“Very,” assured him the Ranger. “Your mother..,” here he broke off, staring into the distance. “Someone's coming. »

“How do you know?” asked Dan. He couldn't see or hear anything. The horses however became suddenly restless, pawing the ground with their hooves and turning their ears.

A dark dot appeared on the horizon, moving towards them. As it came closer, it slowly morphed into a paint horse and a rider whose long hair waved behind in the wind as he approached in gallop.

“Tonto!” sighed the Ranger in relief.

“A race to who reaches him first?” asked Dan. His uncle grinned, and they both jumped to their feet and raced to the horses.

Duke was closer by, so Dan had an advantage of a few seconds. He jumped in the saddle and urged his horse into a gallop. The Ranger was close behind. Their horses' hooves stirred up the dust as they flew towards their goal, Silver slowly closing in on Duke, and finally bypassing him. He reached Tonto a short moment before Dan did. By the time he arrived, his uncle was sitting bent forward in the saddle, arms wrapped tightly around his horse’s neck and showering him with praise. Tonto was watching him with an amused smile.

“Hi Tonto,” greeted Dan him.

“Hello Dan,” hummed he.

“How was the town?”

Tonto shrugged. “Sheriff says there is nothing going on. He's either lying, or really doesn't know.”

The Lone Ranger lifted his face from Silver's fur.

“You mean to say that there _ is _ something going on?”

“I'll tell you in camp,” promised Tonto.

They took their time on the way back. Dan and the Ranger told Tonto about their afternoon, and their friend listened attentively, humming from time to time at the appropriate moments.

“You will be able to hold your own in a fight well enough soon, Dan,” promised the Ranger. “You are a good fighter, you only need a little more training.”

“Can I get a gun?” asked Dan.

“No,” answered the Ranger and Tonto in unison. 26

“But why ?” whined Dan. “I am old enough! And I have shot with guns before, like Grandma Frisby's..,”

“Completely different gun,” said Tonto. “Rifle, not pistol.”

“Guns aren't toys, Dan,” elaborated the Lone Ranger. “You need to know how to correctly handle them.”

“You can teach me,” pointed out Dan.

“I can, and I will,” promised the Ranger. “But this isn't just about using or not using a pistol. Guns are a sort of symbol here. If somebody sees you having one…”

“… they know you are dangerous and go after you first,” ended Tonto his sentence.

“You'll get a gun when you know how to properly use one. For now, it is much more important that you know how to defend yourself without any weapons.”

They arrived at the camp and dismounted. The Lone Ranger looked after the horses, while Dan and Tonto started to assemble things for dinner. Tonto had shot two birds, and started to skin them with practiced movements, while Dan and his uncle fetched water and prepared a fire.

“What did you learn in town?” asked the Ranger as they were waiting for the soup to finish cooking.

“The mine,” said Tonto.

“The new one, yes. How is it coming along?”

“Inactive. But will be opened soon.”

“Good, good. What is the problem?”

“Outlaws use it for smuggled goods. Remember the two Dennis?”

The Ranger abruptly sat up hearing the name.

“I thought they'd been taken care of.”

“Me too,” nodded Tonto. “They're not. Saw them in town talking to the mine owner.”

“Who are the two Dennis?” asked Dan.

“Smugglers,” answered the Ranger. “Bad ones. They'd developed an addictive mix of herbs from all over the continent. Many of those they stole from the territory of indigenous tribes. We have been chasing them some while ago, but one of the Chiefs, a friend of ours, had asked us to let him deal with them. Since it was his people they caused most harm to, we let him, and haven't heard of the Dennis brothers or their smuggling ring since.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Go to the mine first thing tomorrow, look at what is there. Not talk to the Sheriff yet. He might be involved, so we don't know if we can trust him.”

“Can I come too?”

The Lone Ranger exchanged a look with Tonto.

“We wouldn't have it any other way.”

They were lucky. They didn't meet anyone on the way, and the mine too was deserted when they arrived. They let the horses wander free, so that they could graze at liberty, and carefully approached the entry. The Lone Ranger lead them, his guns loosened in their holsters, followed by Dan holding a makeshift torch, and finally Tonto.

It was a very new mine, and therefore the tunnel still short. If there were any goods hidden in there, than they must be near the entry. Tonto could feel John's calm determination and Dan's excitement. The first, he was used to. The second was new and rather electrifying. Somehow, it reminded Tonto of his very first adventures with John, back when they were both still getting used to each other and figuring out how to best fight their never ending fight against outlaws.

Damn. It really seemed to have been a lifetime ago.

“Over there!” The Ranger pointed forwards, where in the shaky light of the torch they could distinguish three chests, made out of wood. Solid, but light enough for transport. They weren't locked, and as the Lone Ranger opened them, Dan's torch shone on their content.

It was not what they had been expecting.

John dug deeper into the chest, while Tonto opened another one. All they found was tissue. Black, brown, white and creme colored, but there was also a roll or two that was blue or pink or red. One could clothe many people with what was present.

“No drugs,” said Tonto, confused.

“Must be why we haven't heard anything,” pondered the Ranger. “We've been looking out for the wrong ware.”

Dan ran his hand over the light brown fabric, and rubbed it's edges between two of his fingers.

“This is good quality tissue,” said he. “Must be worth a fortune.”

John and Tonto looked at him questioningly.

“Grandma Frisby sewed,” explained Dan. “She made clothes for the people in the town, occasionally, and of course our own. She always complained about how hard it is to get good fabric. It has to be imported from pretty far away, or the women have to make it by hand, of course. Either way, it is expensive.”

Tonto had to admit that that was something he'd never wasted a single thought on. He and John were surprisingly well-dressed for two men who lived in the desert, mostly because a well-groomed appearance helped somewhat to get people to trust them. That said, they still couldn't have cared any less about their clothes, as long as they were reasonably clean and not torn. The few times over the past thirteen years (four or five, if he counted correctly) that they _ had _ needed to refresh their wardrobe, they had followed the same route as they always did with tools and household appliances: Some of it they bought with John's silver, the rest they got from various tribes in exchange for their help in whatever tasks they needed it. It was the same strategy Tonto had used for pretty much his entire adult life.

The normal procedure at this point would have been John announcing that they should get the Sheriff, and then heading straight to the town. Usually, Tonto did that part, while John stayed behind to guard their discovery. For the first time, they had to find some place for Dan in that plan.

“We should get…,” started John, but he never got to finish the sentence.

An explosion shook the entry of the mine, and everything went down in dust and falling rocks.

John had been in or near his fair share of explosions in the past, and was optimistic about there being some more in his future. This was… Well, people had always called him strange. 

Well. Maybe _ strange _ hadn't been quite the word they'd used. More like _ weirdo _ , and _ freak. _

Every explosion was different, but there were always some common elements, some that nobody who'd experienced them would ever forget, and that occasionally found their way into John's nightmares.

First, there was always the sound. Loud, and disorienting him for a few precious moments. After that, the heat, a strong, hot wind that had nothing natural and brought nothing good. John, Tonto and Dan reflexively covered their faces. He than lost track of his companions.

The explosion had dislocated the rocks at the entry, and they tumbled down in a cascade of dark dust and rocks bigger than John could lift. Some of it fell from the ceiling above them, and the Lone Ranger used his last remains of clear thought to crouch down behind the wooden chests and cover his head with both arms, knocking his hat off while he did so. He didn’t have the time to look for it, and just waited motionlessly for it all to be over.

Time always followed strange rules when he was so close to danger, therefore John couldn't have told how long he was there. The mine had stopped shaking around him, but he couldn't tell anything more, because the debris had blocked the entry, preventing all sunlight from coming in. Dan had dropped his torch, and the fire'd gone out. They were in the most complete darkness John had been in since… Well, since he'd last gotten stuck in a mine without light, actually.

He quickly checked himself over. Everything appeared to be fine, except for where a rock had hit his head. When he carefully felt it, his fingers came away wet. John cursed internally, but the cut wasn't serious, and he knew that it would stop bleeding soon. He was alone. Shouldn't be. Dan and Tonto had been just next to him, and he had good ears, in a closed space, he should normally be capable of hearing their breathing. But the explosion had left behind a highly disagreeable ringing, so at the moment, he had no other way of finding his friends than to shout.

Before he could do that, he heard a familiar deep voice coming from his left.

“John?” called it. “Dan!”

“Tonto?” asked John.

He stood up, and took some tentative steps in the general direction his friend's voice came from, almost tripping over the chests in the darkness. He quickly decided that it was better to just stay where he was. The floor was full with loose rocks that hadn't been there before, and one of them stumbling around blindly was bad enough, he didn't need to complicate things further by making it two.

“Kemo Sabe, is that you?”

“Over here!” called John.

“Keep talking!”

This was about as helpful as when children asked him to 'say something in English'. Not at all.

“Eeeeeh…” He desperately searched his mind for something halfway intelligent. “I'm all right, over here with the chests, I didn't move far when the explos… Ah !”

Something soft and warm collided with him from behind, and two hands grabbed his arms, pulling him closer towards the other body. John felt around until he found an arm, and grabbed tight.

“Wait. Just let me…” He shuffled around somewhat, until he was facing Tonto. It took him a moment to figure out what exactly to do with his hands, until they came to rest on his friend’s chest, feeling it rise and fall again, than they wandered down to his hands. Tonto gently squeezed his fingers.

“I'm fine, Kemo Sabe.”

John didn't answer, busy patting down his friend, checking for injuries. He ran his hands up and down Tonto's arms, pressed two fingers on his neck under his chin to feel his blood pulse steadily against them, than moved them higher, over his face, and finally into his hair, gently smoothing his long locks back behind his ears. It almost felt as if half the weight of the rocks blocking the entry had been lifted from his chest. _ It's all right. He’s all right. _

Tonto was doing the same, checking his friend's ribs. They were still intact, and John was breathing steadily, if a little heavily. His hands slid higher, resting on John's neck for a moment, feeling his heartbeat. Tonto even adjusted his scarf, before reaching higher, running his fingers over John's face, even under the mask that was still in place. For once, he let him. He hadn't taken his mask off since they'd met Dan, not even to sleep, and he knew that Tonto disapproved of this.

Tonto then proceeded to check his head, and John flinched when he touched the cut.

“You're bleeding,” whispered his friend, alarmed.

John gently pushed away his hand.

“It's nothing, Kemo Sabe. Just a cut.”

Tonto hesitated.

“You sure?”

John took his hands and pulled him to the floor, pressed closely against his friend, his strong body reassuringly close in the darkness.

“I am. Where is Dan?”

Someone tripped over Tonto's leg.

“Au! Uncle?”

“Almost,” said Tonto, and pulled the boy down between them before he could go running off again. “The other one.”

“Dan, thank God,” sighed John, the other half of the rock’s weight gone, and proceeded to give his nephew the same check-over he'd just been through with his friend. Dan wasn't too happy about this, he wiggled and tried to get away. He couldn't, since Tonto blocked his way.

“Stop it! I'm _ fine. _ Really, I am!”

“We don't know that,” pointed out Tonto. “It's dark.”

“He's all right,” confirmed John, and let go of his nephew, who attempted to pull back from him with an annoyed sneer. Tonto wrapped his arms around both of them. John leaned against him and reciprocated his hug, and after only a few short moments, Dan too relaxed a little. He was still breathing fast and heavily, though, and John could feel his fear.

“What do we do now?” whispered the boy.

“We wait,” answered the Ranger calmly.

“But we have to get out of here! We need to dig an opening, or…”

“Too much debris,” said Tonto.

“We'd never get anywhere without tools,” explained John. “We would only exhaust ourselves in vain, and use up the air much faster than if we didn't move. It was a big explosion, somebody will have heard it and come up here to check what happened. The best we can do is keep quiet and consume as little air as we can.”

“Calm your breath,” advised Tonto. “You use more if you are scared. You breathe more quickly.”

“But…”

“Help is on the way.” John was proud of how absolutely sure of himself he sounded, given that he was everything but.

They sat in silence for a while. It would have been almost cosy, had it not been quite so dark, and quite so silent, and their future quite this uncertain.

“How much longer?” asked Dan finally. His voice sounded thin and very small.

It was the moment that John realized just how young the boy really was.

Because that wasn’t Dan. Not the brave and heroic brother John had known. It was his son, who was thirteen and had never had been in mortal danger before.

“It's going to be alright, Dan,” said he gently. “Don't be afraid.”

“I'm not afraid,” sniffed Dan. The stubbornness in his voice made John smile.

“Now you sound just like your father.”

Dan moved, probably to wipe away his tears.

“Oh?” asked he.

“He was so _ brave _. And he had to make sure that everyone knew it. He got us in lots of difficult situations because of that. He always had to break the rules. Steal Father's horses and ride into the desert…”

Tonto made some noise that sounded suspiciously close to a laugh.

“No, really!”, defended John himself.

“Tell him how we first met, Kemo Sabe.”

“Well, I stole one of Father's horses and rode into the desert….”

Tonto and Dan both made that noise again, and John felt as if they’d just challenged him for a fight over his honor.

“That was different!”

“How.”

“_ I _ only ever did stupid things out of curiosity. Or because they were fun. But _ Dan… _ Dan needed to prove himself. He did it to tell us that he _ was not afraid _. He was always showing off to the other children. And to the Rangers, later. First thing he did after we joined was making sure that he really impressed them, and then kept going. That is why they respected him so much. That is why he was the best.”

“I thought _ you _ were the best?” Curiosity had taken hold of Dan, making him forget his fear for the moment.

John laughed.

“Me? No! I was the weakling of the team. Good rider, good tracker, good with the guns, but I'd rather tried talking to the outlaws than fight them. And I have never been good with people, not on the long term. An adult man whose closest contact are his brother and his brother's wife is bound to attract some ridicule. The things I could tell you about the stories they'd been circulating about me!”

“Like what?”, asked Dan, eager for more and distracted of his fear.

“Well, the most popular was that I was in love with your mother. Who very obviously only cared about your father, so that always gave the boys something to laugh about…”

“But it wasn't true? Was it?”

“Dan, I've never been in love in my life. Not with Linda, not with Tonto, not with anybody else.”

“… with Tonto?”

“Long story,” hummed Tonto.

One they still hadn't heard the end of, actually. 27

“Anyway,” changed John the subject back to its original track. “You just sounded _ a lot _ like your father that one time he'd got us stuck in the desert at night, and he'd spent the whole time trying to convince me that he wasn't afraid.”

“And was he?”

“Oh, definitely. More than I was, I believe. I've never been actually afraid of the desert, I think. Not as much as I should have been, in any case. Dan was the one of us who had actual common sense, not me.”

“Definitely not you.”

“Thank you, Kemo Sabe.”

His friend gently showed him. John showed back.

“Do you really think that I am like my father?” asked Dan.

John thought about it for a moment. It was true that his nephew reminded him of his brother, or of Linda, terribly so at times. But at others, he was just such a _ stranger _, and John didn't quite know what to do about it. Which was probably the reason why he ended up putting distance between them, confused about the connection to his past that wasn't a connection.

But…

“Yes. In many ways, you are. But you have the determination of your mother.”

“And the wisdom your grandmother taught you,” added Tonto.

They were interrupted by an echoing noise coming from the entry. John instinctively pushed Dan and Tonto behind him, and covered them protectively with his body, as well as he could.

_ Heeeeeeelloooooo _, the noise repeated itself.

“Who's there?”, called John.

“Ferreira is my name. Who are you?”

John started to crawl towards the entry, followed by Dan and Tonto. They stayed a little behind him, mostly for Dan's safety.

“Never mind that! Can you get us out of here?”

“Sure we can. Half the town is with me.”

“Is the Sheriff there?”

“I'm here,” answered him another voice. “You people have some explaining to do.”

“Is that him, Kemo Sabe?” whispered John to Tonto.

“That's him.”

They had talked a lot about it the previous night, and had come to the conclusion that more likely than not, the Sheriff was not crooked, just incompetent.

“We have three chests full of smuggled goods in here, and the names of the smugglers.”

“Sounds like a mighty wild tale to me, mister.”

“It is. But I swear it is true. Ever heard of the two Dennis?”

“I have, and I can tell you that they're not here. Who are you and why should I believe a word you say?”

They had arrived as close to the entry as they would get. Close enough to hear the people outside fairly well, but not so close that they would be in immediate danger, was anything to happen.

“I assume you found our horses? One of them is white.”

“That devil? He came into town and wouldn't leave us peace until we followed him out here.”

John smiled. Good old Silver.

“Look in the right hand saddle bag, and tell me if you have ever seen anything like that before!”

The Sheriff didn't answer for a while, which he presumably spent carrying out John's order. When he returned to the minuscule opening in the wall, his voice had a considerably different tone.

“Silver bullets! Are you…”

John grinned.

“At your service, Sheriff. Can you get us out of here?”

Dan had never been more happy to see anyone than Duke that late afternoon. His horse was unusually affectionate, too, as if he knew that Dan had been in danger.

“He does,” said Tonto, when Dan voiced his suspicion. “He's clever.”

“But he's a _ horse _,” protested Dan.

His uncle looked up from where he had his face buried in Silver's neck, and glared daggers at him.

Dan decided that it was better to leave the subject alone. It was not as if he hadn't known that horses were clever, any way.

The Dennis brothers had escaped. Not surprising, according to the Lone Ranger. They had been the ones who'd discovered that the three of them had found their hideout, and blown the tunnel entry as a form of damage control. After that, they had jumped on their horses and fled out of town.

Dan was disappointed. Tonto and the Ranger took their defeat rather calmly. After all, they were used to playing the long game. They now knew that the two Dennis were at lose. They would catch them, and make sure that they got the punishment they deserved.

And Dan would be with them, helping every step along the way.

The last thing Dan heard from the townspeople was Ferreira asking the Sheriff who that masked man actually was. He didn't get to hear the answer over his uncle's cries urging his horse onwards. The sun was getting low and they still had a long way to go before they reached their camp.

They were all three exhausted, and only had the energy to tend to the horses, start a fire and cook and eat their dinner in silence. After that, they just sat there, staring into the flames, unwilling to move. They _ had _ to, the fire was outside and they were supposed to sleep in the tipi…

“Can't we just sleep outside?”, asked Dan.

“It's cold,” reminded him Tonto.

“I don't mind. We can still go inside if it gets too bad.”

“I hate sleeping in closed spaces,” remarked the Ranger.

Tonto shot him an unimpressed look.

“Than you get the beds. I'm not standing up.”

The Ranger sighed and went inside to fetch the blankets and the saddles they used as pillows.

Their first sleep was deep and undisturbed.

Dan woke when Tonto next to him tried to silently get up . When he saw that he was awake, he put a finger on his lips to signal him to be quiet, and pointed to the Lone Ranger, who was still sleeping. He then pointed to the fire. It had almost gone out. Dan nodded, and got up quietly to help him get some more wood and slowly reawaken the flames.

John was awake by the time they finished, and sat up, his blanket hanging around his shoulders. Dan and Tonto joined him, Tonto on his left side, Dan on the right.

It was a clear night, silent like it can only be in the desert, the crackle of the fire the only sound. Dan felt calm, centered in a way he hadn't since the outlaws had turned up near their house. Two weeks ago. A lifetime ago.

It was Tonto who broke the silence.

“You were going to tell about you and your brother stuck in the desert, Kemo Sabe?”

“Please?”, added Dan.

The Ranger sighed.

“Will you leave me any peace if I don't?”

Tonto grinned a wolfish grin at him.

“No.”

The Ranger elbowed him.

“Well, we were both very small. I believe I must have been four, maybe five, and Dan was than, like six, seven? My family had a horse, we called her Muddy, because of her brown color…”

Tonto moved closer to him and rested his head on his shoulder. The Ranger put an arm around him. It looked very nice, and Dan kind of wanted to join them, but they still hardly knew each other and it would have been weird, so he didn't.

“I loved Muddy, and we were allowed to ride around on her. I mean, Dan was, and he would take me with him. We weren't allowed to go into the desert, of course, but he kept doing it. We never went far, and always got back in time. So Dan became bolder…”

Tonto turned his head a little, and whispered something in the Ranger’s ear that Dan couldn't hear. But it wouldn't have really mattered if he had, because he knew that it was not in English.

The Ranger turned and looked directly at his nephew for the first time that night.

“Dan, are you happy with us?” asked he.

The question took Dan by surprise. But he didn't have to think about the answer.

“What? Yes, of course I am.”

“Because I know that this is a big change in your lifestyle, and very different from what young boys want or how they should be living… And I know I've made a promise to both your father and your grandmother that I would look after you, but we could always find you a normal family to take care of you, and that still wouldn't break the promise, and… Just tell me. If that is what you want.”

Two days ago, Dan might have said yes. But it definitely was not what he wanted any more.

“No, I'd rather stay with you.” He hesitated for a moment. “Uncle John.”

The Ranger smiled.

“And…” He hesitated too long, and Tonto poked him. “You can lean against me, too. If you'd like. We're family, so…”

Dan only hesitated for a moment to curl up into a ball and lay his head in his uncle's lap. John tentatively run his hand through his hair. It felt very nice.

“I'm sorry that we didn't get to do this when you were younger,” said Uncle John, very low, than changed back to his previous storytelling voice.

“One day, Dan decided that he wanted to explore, so we rode out into the desert, much further than we'd ever been before….”

While he was talking, he casually reached up, and, for the second time since Dan knew him, he took off his mask.

* * *

**Footnotes:**

**1.** Scene from the first Gold Key comic, the story “The Lone Ranger - He Finds Dan Reid”

**2.** Yeah, that’s not how the original went. I changed it for different reasons. One, I didn’t like the original ending of the Sheriff’s men murdering everyone and thought that it was unnecessary. Two, the Lone Ranger and Tonto operate in a very interesting morally gray area, where they are basically running around telling everybody to be nice. Because this is a fairy tale, it actually works. As soon as we bring in our Real World history knowledge, it gets really complicated really fast. There was a genocide going on, that in the Lone Ranger mythos never seems to have happened (I hope). I am not going to talk about this in this story, because I don’t trust myself to handle it well enough, and also thinking too closely about worldbuilding and continuity in the Lone Ranger/Green Hornet world is a real pain. But I did want to put in some kind of acknowledgment. Finally, three: The mental image of the Lone Ranger and Tonto having a shouting match with a group of armed warriors is somehow really funny.

**3.** “Kemo Sabe” is what Tonto calls John. It means… Something. Usually they translate it as "trusty scout" or "faithful friend", but since it has been made up by the creators of the show.... Who knows. It is also funny that in the earlier radio plays, it is John who calls Tonto this. Which I REALLY love, so I decided that it is a term of endearment they both use for one another. There are different ways to spell it. I chose this one because I had to pick one. [ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ke-mo_sah-bee ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ke-mo_sah-bee)

**4.** Linda was killed in the attack. Only one woman survived, who than found the child she’d hidden in her truck and raised him as her own grandson. See Dell comic 08 “The Lone Ranger - On the Trail of a Criminal”, Gold Key comic 01 “The Lone Ranger - He Finds Dan Reid”, and every other Dan Reid origin story I haven’t watched / read / listened to yet.

**5.** Source needed. I am SO CERTAIN that I’ve found it while doing research, and have no idea where. I am slightly worried that I mixed it up with the Apache at some point, where I know for sure that at least the Chiricahua and Jicarilla languages had the same words for the father and the paternal uncle. [ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apache#Chiricahua_2 ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apache#Chiricahua_2)

“Numunu” means “The People”, and it is the name the Comanche call themselves.

**6.** Basically canon. I mean, the Lone Ranger is a typical White Savior figure from the 30s, so per definition he speaks all languages and is more eloquent than the actual people whose language it is, and it is never quite elaborated how the heck that is supposed to work in practice. (See the 1956 movie if you really need a concrete example.)

**7.** Gold Key comic 01 “The Lone Ranger - He Finds Dan Reid”. That was weird. In a patriotic superhero kind of way.

**8.** John and Tonto seem to be living under the free sky. I have read, watched and listened to a whole bunch of stories by now, and they haven’t used a tent once. Don’t ask me why. I mean, there is a good reason why tipis were invented in the first place.

**9.** The original radio series had a set of guidelines about writing the Lone Ranger. One of these is that he doesn’t drink or smoke, and just to make sure to get rid of every trace of alcohol, all the saloons were replaced by cafes. [ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lone_Ranger#Characters ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lone_Ranger#Characters)

**10.** Before the electric light became common, people used to sleep in two parts. They would go to bed early, sleep for four hours or so, be awake for another hour, and then sleep again. Between the two, they did all kinds of things, more or less what you’d expect people to do when they have some free time in the middle of the night. Than we invented lamps and collectively forgot about this. [ https://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-16964783 ](https://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-16964783)

**11.** Silver is awesome. Silver is the best. Silver even has his own comic book series.

**12.** Jim is a retired Texas Ranger who used to serve with John and Dan senior. The three of them found a silver mine at some point, and he manages it for John so that he can pay for his vigilante lifestyle. The silver his bullets are made of also comes from that mine. See the first episode of the tv series from the 50’s, “Enter the Lone Ranger”.

**13.** What follows is Tonto’s origin story as told mostly in the first episode of the tv series from the 50’s, “Enter the Lone Ranger”. I changed it a little and completed it with my own headcanons.

**14.** This bit is mine. Don’t tell me that Tonto survived on his own during all those years.

**15.** Tonto would have been especially close to his grandfather. Comanche men were often away hunting or raiding, so it was the paternal grandfather who took over the education of the boys. [ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Comanche#Children ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Comanche#Children)

**16.** Again, my own headcanon. Tonto in the stories never really shows any sign of being part of any bigger cultural heritage, and he definitely is somewhat crazy. He is living alone in the desert, and also he’s a superhero.

**17.** The Lone Ranger tv series episode one and two. "Enter the Lone Ranger" and "The Lone Ranger Fights On".

**18.** They also don’t use a travois. Because who needs technology and extra luggage, I guess.

**19.** We’ve all been there, John. At least I most definitely have.

**20.** Again, we are talking about a guy who lived alone in the desert before the story even started. Both John and Tonto would be a complete disaster in any kind of society, including the ones they come from, and you can not change my mind.

**21.** Personal headcanon: Both John and Tonto are atheists, or at least get close. They also don’t follow most of their respective traditions any more. I swear that I didn’t pull this out of thin air. For starters, they never mention or otherwise reference any religious elements or beliefs in anything ever. They do work together with a priest on multiple occasions, but I really had the impression that it was because he was an authority figure and had nothing to do with him being a priest. Finally, the Christmas special "Christmas Story" from the 1949 tv series convinced me once and for all that the Lone Ranger _ does not celebrate Christmas _.

**22.** Dell comic 08 “The Lone Ranger - On the Trail of a Criminal”

**23.** Tonto has a bad habit of constantly getting beaten up every time he goes to a town. It’s almost comical.

**24.** Tonto also has his own comic book series. To be fair, I haven’t read any of those yet.

**25.** That was NOT the incident from the 1956 movie. It was another one that I just made up and that went very similarly to it.

**26.** Dell comic number 06, story “The Lone Ranger and the ‘Skeleton’”. There was a scene where the Ranger gave Dan a gun and stressed how he trusts him to be responsible with it.

**27.** Don’t even try to tell me that in thirteen years, nobody ever commented on how _ gay _ two men running off to live in the desert together sounds. Whether or not they actually believed that John and Tonto are a couple is up to debate, but it must have turned out to be a very good running gag. (As previously stated, this is a fairy tale, so I am happy to announce that homophobia isn’t really a thing. At least not much more than it is in our present Real World.)


End file.
